


The Prince of Darkness

by asododsteel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asododsteel/pseuds/asododsteel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Tale of Heroes, Monsters, and Public Administration</p>
<p>The great hero Hebron has slain the Dark Lord, rescued the Princess, and saved the land from devastation. But according to Demon Law, whosoever kills the King of Darkness must take his place on the throne.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a warm evening, perhaps uncomfortably so. Nobles and commoners alike crowded together in the royal court to hear the Princess’s address. 

“Citizens of Albion!” she announced. “We are gathered here today to celebrate our victory over the Kingdom of Fiends and to recognize the valiant efforts of our brave heroes.” She gestured to three figures standing to her right. “Come forward, Cordelia Almace.” A olive-skinned young woman clad in white robes stepped forward. 

“So about that official pardon you mentioned?” the woman asked as the Princess awarded her a medal. 

“We shall discuss it later.” said the Princess, a forced sweetness in her voice. “Come forward, Treasa Ulster of Middangeard.”

“It’s Orgoth, Your Majesty.” said the large, muscular, and noticeably shirtless man who came up next, “Orgoth the Barbarian.”

“My apologies,” said the princess, draping a medal around his tanned, scar covered neck.. “And finally,” the Princess gestured over to the remaining figure, “for the mighty deed of slaying the dreaded Dark Lord Asmodeus, infernal King of Ierne and despoiler of this land for generations, I present this medal of honor to our Kingdom’s greatest hero: Hebron Morgenstern of Afer!” The dashing young man smiled as the Princess presented him with his prize. 

“It has been an honor serving you Bella. Know that if ever you are in need of me, no matter the danger, no matter the peril, I will be there.”

“Thank you Hebron. The kingdom and I are in your debt.” The Princess faced the crowd. “Now, before the celebratory feast, let us once more give praise to our triumphant heroes!” Her words were met with a thunderous and joy filled applause as she and the heroes were escorted from the hall. A lone figure remained in the court. His name was Louis Morgenstern, younger brother of Hebron. He had watched as his older brother stepped forward to receive his medal. He was disheartened that his name wasn’t called; disheartened but not surprised. 

“What happens now?” he wondered.

 

“We’ll probably be knighted” said Orgoth the Barbarian seated at the feast table. “It’s the least they could do given how we pretty much singlehandedly saved the kingdom.” 

“I think our brave hero’s hoping for something a little more regal than knighthood.” quipped Cordelia. “Aren’t you Hebron?” 

Said brave hero was currently gazing amorously across the table at the Princess. She meanwhile was trying maintain her regal demeanor while at the same time sneaking loving glances at Hebron.

“I’ll admit that I’ve entertained the thought.” he replied. “To call the Princess beautiful would be an understatement of the grossest kind.” he rose dramatically. “Nay, of all the fair creatures on this earth, none are more radiant, nor invoke more desire than she.” he lowered himself to his comrades’ level. “Besides, if I have the chance I might as well take it.” He smiled. “‘King Hebron’. Has a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

“You can have your girl of the week” said Cordelia dismissively, “Personally, I have much humbler goals. All I want is to be able to continue my experiments in peace.”

“You know that’s never going to happen.” said Orgoth.

“A girl can dream can’t she?”

“If those are your dreams, I’d hate to see your nightmares.” he said with a forlorn chuckle.

“Sure, laugh it up. We’ll see who has the last laugh... Treasa.”

Orgoth groaned. “What dark force possessed me to tell you my real name?”

“Wait,” said Hebron, “your name is actually Treasa Ulster?”

“Yes.” said Orgoth, “Is it so unusual for a barbarian to have a barbarian name alongside their birth name?”

“But Ulster? What kind of name is that?”

“What did you think my last name was?”

“The Barbarian?” said Hebron, to the derisive laughter of his two companions.

“Having fun are we?” asked Louis, appearing behind Hebron.

“Hello there brother!” said Hebron, “I was wondering where you got to. Did you see the ceremony?”

“I did.”

“You must have felt pretty proud, seeing your big brother awarded in front of all those people.” He dangled the medal in front of his younger sibling’s face.

“Indeed. I was surprised the king himself wasn’t there to present it to you personally.”

“Haven’t you heard?” said Orgoth, “His Majesty has been bedridden for the past few days. Apparently this war has taken its toll on him.”

“He’s probably going to die soon.” said Cordelia.

“Ho! No need to be morbid.” said Hebron.

“Try to be more respectful. You’re a cleric for God’s sake.” said Orgoth, gesturing at the holy symbols adorning the young women’s robes.

“Well it’s true isn’t it? He’s been around since the Last Crusade. I’m surprised the old codger lived to see the war’s end.” It was just then that a hush fell over the feast hall.

“Oh now you’ve done it.” said Hebron

“I don’t think that’s it.” said Louis, “Look!” Over near the entrance there appeared to be some kind of commotion. Guards rushed over and amid the disturbance the sound of shouting was heard. Hebron hurried over, followed by his companions, to find a circle of armed guards surrounding two atrocious creatures. Hebron stared at their sinister fangs and twisted horns; their scaly red skin clad in horrific black armor.

“Demons...” he growled.

“And of the lesser variety, judging by their height.” noted Louis.

“What is the meaning of this?” asked the Princess as she stormed to the edge of the circle. “Why have you come here?”

“We are emissaries of the Kingdom of Ierne. We have come to receive our king. Our orders are to escort him back to Castle Dúnna nGall.” spoke the taller and more confident looking of the two.

“The Demon King is dead.” said the Princess. “I personally witnessed his remains being purged and buried in consecrated ground.”

“Not Asmodeus.” said the shorter demon. “We seek the new king. King Hebron, Dark Lord of Ierne.”

 

“What?” exclaimed Hebron and the Princess in unison.

“As per Demon Law,” explained the shorter demon, “whosoever slays the Dark Lord must take his/her place as ruler. Lord Asmodeus was slain by Lord Hebron, so... ”

The hall was engulfed in silence as everyone turned to look at Hebron. This silence was soon broken by the sound of hysteric cackling. Cordelia, standing next to Hebron, had doubled over in laugher. Orgoth sidestepped over and nudged her.

“Uh, Cordelia.” he said, “This isn’t really the best time for-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” she gasped, “It’s just so ridiculous!” 

“I fail to see humor in this.” said the Princess, giving Cordelia the most disapproving stare she had ever seen. The cleric tried her hardest to stop laughing, but couldn’t help but giggle at the Princess’s stern glare.

“I’m sorry Princess, I really am; but you have to admit that it is sort of funny.”

The Princess sighed. “Guards!” she said, pointing to the two demons, “Take these two to the upper meeting room. We shall deal with them later. As for you all,” she turned to the heroes, “follow me.” The Princess led them through the castle, barking orders to servants and attendants all the way.

“I’ve never seen her so worked up.” said Louis.

“Me neither.” said Hebron, “I kind of like it.” 

“Well you’re not really going to go along with this, are you? It’s madness.”

Hebron shrugged. “Might as well go along and see how it all plays out.”

After minutes of frantic speed walking, they finally made their way to the study, where innumerable clerks and scribes were busily flipping through and marking books on demonic lore, royal succession, and Iernian politics.

“She works fast.” muttered Orgoth.

“Any findings?” the Princess asked the head scribe.

“Yes and no.” said the tall bald-headed man, “The Abyssal Code does include provisions such that the fair defeat of a noble in mortal combat against a single opponent can lead to the second party (hereafter known as the victor) inheriting said noble’s position, power, and non-monetary assets. This includes but is not limited to property, titles, rights, and obligations. However this rule lacks formal precedent, as it has never been applied at such a grand scale before. Hebron Morgenstern appears to be the first person ever to kill a demon king in combat. Also of note, this provision only applies to the noble themselves, not their attendants, trustees, or representatives. So it’s unlikely that any of our other combatants are in line to inherit anything. This is all the definitive information we have at the moment. I’d advise seeking counsel from the Iernian Courts if you have any further questions.”

“Hmm, alright. Thank you and good work.” she said, dismissing the man with a wave of her arm.

“Perhaps we could contact Ierne and explain to them that this is just some kind of misunderstanding?” suggested Louis.

“No.” said the Princess, “No, this could actually be beneficial. If we let another fiend take the throne, we could end up having to fight another war in a matter of decades. But if we install one of our own into power, we could prevent future conflict from ever occurring. This may be the only way for a long lasting peace.” She turned to Hebron and took his hands in hers, “I know this is a lot to ask of you Hebron, but do you think you can do this? For the good of Albion and for all the world?”

Hebron gave her a charming smile “Well when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

“Um, Brother.” cut in Louis, “Perhaps you should take some time to think about this?”

“Nonsense!” replied Hebron, “When has thinking ever accomplished anything?”

“Are... Are you being sarcastic? I honestly can’t tell.”

Hebron ignored him and turned his attention back to the Princess. “I once made a promise to protect you and this kingdom, and I will continue to uphold this promise, even if I cannot do so by your side.”

“Thank you.” she said, “In time, when true peace has finally been achieved, we shall all remember this moment when you truly went above and beyond the call of duty. Now, let us make haste!”

“To where?” asked Hebron

“To meet with those two messengers. We still need to find out more of the details of this arrangement. What are your duties as king? Will there be a coronation? What are the dangers involved?”

“Dangers?” asked Hebron.

“Well you can’t expect becoming a Dark Lord to be easy can you?” said Cordelia, “Or else everyone would do it.”

“There’s also the matter of keeping that title.” said Orgoth, “You only got the job because you killed the Demon King, so it stands to reason that there will be others who’ll want to challenge you for the throne. This is an entire kingdom of monsters we’re talking about, and you’re expected to be able to beat every single one.”

“Oh.” said Hebron, as he was being led down the corridor. They arrived at the meeting room. The two demons were there waiting for them, taller gorging itself on a bowl of fruit, the shorter flipping through a book of poetry.

“Wow,” it muttered, “this is garbage.”

“Ahem.” said the Princess. The demons raised their heads and snapped to attention.

“We have come to a consensus. We shall allow you to take Hebron back to Ierne, provided you can guarantee his safety.”

“But of course.” said one of the demons.

“If he dies we die.” said the other.

“May we come too?” asked Orgoth. “This is as much our responsibility as his.”

“I’m afraid we cannot allowed that.” said the shorter demon. “This is strictly an Iernian matter. We can not have outsiders interfering with the proceedings.”

“What about my brother?” asked Hebron, throwing an arm around Louis, “If I’m a king, doesn’t that make him a prince?”

“I suppose so.” said the demon.

“Why must you drag me into this?” complained Louis.

“Because we’re a team, you and I. Where you go, I go, and vice versa.”

“Consider me blessed.”

The demons led the Hebron and Louis outside to the stable. Among the various breeds of horses, there were two that caught the brothers’ eyes. They had a coat black as pitch and eyes like burning coals. They were thin and bony to the point of being emaciated, and made horrific shrieking noises that were not entirely unlike neighs. The other horses cowered in their stalls, trying to stay as far away from the pair as possible.

“l take it these two are yours?” asked Louis.

“Yeah, how’d ya know?” 

 

They rode through the countryside in a carriage as dark as night, covered in curved spikes and adorned with silver skulls. The interior was black velvet, comfortably soft but cold to the touch.

“Your first act as king should be hiring a new interior decorator.” joked Louis.

Hebron nodded but said nothing.

“You okay?” asked his brother. 

Hebron nodded again. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Things.”

“Hmm.” Louis nodded. They spent the rest of the ride in silence. By nightfall, Louis began to wonder whether or not the two demons had prepared a place for them to spend the night.

“Excuse me,” he said, poking his head out of the small window separating the inner carriage from the driver’s seat, “It’s getting dark, and I was just curious as to when and where you planned on stopping for the night.”

“Stopping?” asked the shorter demon. “We’re on a schedule. Why in the world would we want to stop?”

“To get some sleep of course. You can’t honestly hope to stay awake all night driving.”

“Of course not, we’re switching off.” it pointed to the taller demon, who was napping peacefully in its seat. “There should be enough room back there for you two to sleep, if you feel like it.”

“Well what about the horses?” asked Louis incredulously, “Surely they need to rested, fed, and watered?”

“Nah, these are night mares, fueled by darkness. They can go on forever without food or sleep.”

“That is both physically impossible and a horrible pun.” said Louis.

“Sorry sir, but we’ve been instructed to bring the king safely back to Ierne. We can’t risk stopping in enemy territory.”

“This might be enemy territory for you, but for us this is home. We’ll be perfectly safe here so long as we don’t run into any wild beasts?”

“Beasts?” asked the demon, fear forming in its black eyes.

“Yes.” said Louis, “Horrible beasts that roam the forests at night, searching for fresh prey.”

The demon gulped. “We didn’t consider that.”

“And that’s not even to mention the multitudes of bandits that scour the roads at dark, fearsome hulking warriors always on the lookout for wealthy travelers like us.”

“Beasts and bandits.” murmured the demon. “Perhaps we should find some secure lodgings, just to be safe.”

“I believe we passed an inn not too long ago.”

“Did we? Huh. I guess we better turn back and stop for the night.”

“If that’s what you think is best.” said Louis. 

The demon nudged its companion awake.

“My turn already? mumbled the sleepy demon.

“No. We’re stopping for the night.”

“Stopping for the night?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Beasts and bandits.”

“Beasts and bandits?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

They pulled up at the inn, which was loud with celebration. Inside men, women, and children were eating, drinking, and generally being merry. This merriment ceased as the demons entered. A hush fell over the inn.

“ _This seems familiar_.” thought Louis.

“What do you want?” the large burly man behind the bar demanded.

“It’s okay.” said Hebron, stepping forward, “They’re with me?”

“And who are you?” asked the barman.

“Who am I?” Hebron puffed out his chest. “Who am I?” he pulled out his sword.

“I am Hebron Morgenstern!” he planted the sword into the ground and rested his hands upon it. “Hero of Albion!” The patrons of the inn stared as he posed. They were clearly impressed, as they rightly should have been. Hebron had practiced that routine too many times for it to go unappreciated.”

“Alright.” said the barman, “And what is the Hero of Albion doing in the company of demons?” 

“Uh...” Hebron faltered.

“He is escorting me.” spoke up Louis.

The barman looked at him skeptically “And who are you?”

“I...” Louis paused, “I am the envoy extraordinary sent from Gaul to discuss the terms of surrender between Albion and Ierne. Sir Hebron is here to represent Princess Bella, and these two are here to represent the current ruling powers in Ierne. As you have no doubt  realized, this is an important diplomatic mission, one vital to the peace of both the Kingdom of Heroes and the Kingdom of Fiends.” 

The crowd murmured. The barman grimaced. Louis held his breath.

“Very well,” said the man, “but those two stay outside.” The pair of demons glanced at each other and shrugged, apparently content with these conditions.

“I implore you to reconsider.” said Louis, “They won’t cause any trouble.”

“We won’t?” whispered the taller demon before being elbowed by the shorter one.

“Not a chance.” said the barman resolutely, “We’ve lost too many to their kind. It’s not worth the risk.”

“It’s fine sir.” the shorter demon said, “We’ll just stay in the carriage.”

The crowd watched as they left the inn, before returning to their celebration as if nothing had happened.

“Good work back there.” said Hebron to Louis once inside their room. “That was quite a bit of quick thinking on both our parts.”

“Indeed.”

“Where did you get that whole ‘envoy extraordinary’ shtick?”

“To tell the truth, I’ve always dreamed of becoming a Gaulic diplomat.” Louis admitted sheepishly.

“I thought you always wanted to be a dragon.”

“I wanted to be a lot of things.” Louis said, the statement coming out a tad more defensively than he would have liked.

“Well you did a fine job, so I won’t fault ya.” 

“Thank you,” said the younger sibling hesitantly, “though I do regret that the other two had to be excluded.”

“What did you expect?” asked Hebron, “They’re demons. They feed on peoples’ souls. Nobody’s going to be stupid enough to invite them into their home.”

“You’re right.” said Louis, “I suppose I was being foolish. I just got caught up in the whole...”

“Charade?” suggested Hebron.

“Yes I suppose that’s the right word.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. There’s nothing on this earth like the rush of being the hero; even if you’re just playing at it.”

“Is that why we got into this war? For the rush?”

“No, not entirely. There’s also the fame and glory, social status, things like that.”

“And I’m sure the various rewards didn’t factor into it at all.”

“A hero has the right to eat, doesn’t he? Some of us have got to live as well, you know.”

“I wasn’t talking about monetary rewards. I’ve noticed what’s been going on between you and the Princess, the way you’ve been vivisecting her with your eyes.”

“I was thinking of a Spring wedding.” gushed Hebron, “Maybe with a daffodil motif?”

“All I’m saying is that, fighting just because you’ll get something out of it, it’s hardly what you’d call heroic.”

“Eh.” Hebron shrugged, “That’s an idealist’s argument. When you get down to it, the only reason anybody does anything is because they want something out of it. Look at our party. Orgoth wanted revenge for his family. Cordelia wanted amnesty for her crimes against nature. I wanted to be celebrated as a hero. Does that make our victory any less noble? I certainly don’t think so.”

“What about those who sacrificed their lives in battle?” challenged Louis.

“They didn’t sacrifice their lives, they risked their lives. They knew they’d die if Albion lost the war, so they gambled their lives to improve the chances of victory. They didn’t join out of patriotism or a sense of moral duty, they were just playing the odds.”

“That’s a rather cynical viewpoint.”

“When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, you have the right to be cynical. That being said, I know for a fact that you’ve seen what I’ve seen, having been at my side the whole time, so now I’m wondering why we’re even having this conversation.”

“To justify our actions?” suggested Louis. “Or to alleviate the burden of self-doubt?

“Yeah, probably.” said Hebron, sliding into bed. “Nothing like a good ol’ pondering over one’s motivations. Would you mind getting the lights?”

Louis made not a sound as he put out the lantern and plunged the room into darkness. He’d go to sleep eventually, but first there was still one question he had yet to answer. 

“What do I want out of all this?”

 

The next morning, the two brothers found the demons asleep inside the carriage. They periodically gnashed their teeth and let out low ferocious growls before returning to a silent slumber.

“I think they’re snoring.” said Hebron.

“Or they’re having nightmares.” suggested Louis, “The dream kind not the horses.”

“What would a demon even have nightmares about? Flowers and sunshine?”

“Or perhaps horrors beyond our comprehension. Terrors so foul that they’d cause even creatures of darkness to shiver.”

“Maybe.”

There was a pause.

“We should wake them up.” said Louis.

“Agreed.” 

There was another pause.

“Well, get to it then.” said Hebron.

“Me? I’m not sure. How about you do it?”

“How about _you_ do it?”

“You’re clearly more qualified than me, having actually dealt with demons before. I think you should do it.”

“I have experience killing demons, not waking them. You on the other hand were always getting people up at the right times. This is clearly your specialty.

“I don’t really feel comfortable-”

“C’mon! Just do it.”

“Ah, no. I’d rather not.”

“It’s your turn!”

“What do you mean its my turn?”

“It’s your turn to wake the demons up.”

“I don’t recall us ever establishing that.”

“We’re establishing it now. Go wake them up.”

“This is preposterous!”

“No look, it’s real simple. Right now you wake them up, and then the next time we have to wake demons I’ll wake them up. Easy, right?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Point taken, now go wake up the demons, demon waker.”

“Fine, fine! If it will get you to stop acting like such a child.”

Louis carefully approached the sleeping demons.

“Uh, excuse me.” he said, “We’re ready to go now. Would you mind getting up?” there was no response.

“Hello.” he spoke a bit louder, “It’s time to get up. We’re leaving.” Still no response.

“Hey!” he yelled at the demons. “Wake up!” The demons were still not stirred from their slumber. 

“Heavy sleepers.” muttered Louis.

“Try shaking them.” said Hebron. Louis nodded and reached for the shorter demon’s shoulder, only to shrink back as the demon reflexively lashed out, its claws missing his face by a hair. Louis fell backwards, watching as the demon returned to its peaceful rest.

“It almost slashed my eyes out!” exclaimed Louis on the ground.

“Hmm...” said Hebron, “Get a stick.”

 

“They didn’t have to whack me so hard.” said the shorter demon when they were back on the road.

“That’s what you get for being such a night owl.” said the taller demon at the reins.

“You stayed up with me!”

“Only because I’m used to getting little sleep.”

“You could have mentioned that.”

“You should have kept your eye on the time. Learn to be more independent. Don’t just do something because someone else is doing it.”

“Sure, sure. Any other aspects of my life you’d like to critique?”

“Well now that you mention it-”

“Not to cut into your conversation,” said Louis, cutting into their conversation, “but isn’t that the border up ahead?”

The demons looked up.

“Why yes it is.” said one.

“Just over that bridge and we’ll be on Manannán’s Pass.” said the other.

“Don’t you mean the Isthmus of Eubonia?” asked Hebron. “That’s what Orgoth always called it.”

“Here in Ierne it is known as Manannán’s Pass. After the ancient demon lord Manannán, who moved the island to bridge the gap between Ierne and Albion.”

“I’ve read about him.” said Louis, “He was a sea deity who controlled the weather and escorted the souls of the dead to the underworld. I don’t recall ever seeing anything about him being a demon.”

“Well the church considers him one. No other being could hold that great power. Though I suppose you heathens grew up hearing a different version of the story.” said the taller demon proudly.

“We’re still in Albion right now,” pointed out Hebron, ”so our views are perfectly orthodox. We won’t be heathens until we cross that bridge.” 

“Well put, Your Majesty.” said the shorter demon, glaring at the taller. “You are absolutely right.”

“You actually raise an interesting point.” said Louis. “From what I’ve heard, the inhabitants of Ierne take their religion very seriously. They might stand a human taking the throne, but how will they react to one whom they consider a heathen becoming the defender of the faith?”

“What are you saying?” asked Hebron.

“Well, if you want to maintain order and keep everyone happy, you may have to convert to Abyssism.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” said one of the demons. “You’re just love being an Abyssal, Your Majesty; there truly is nothing like it. The prayers, the feasts, the virgin sacrifices.”

“I don’t want to do prayers!” yelped Hebron.

“Well, being king, you could probably change things around if you really wanted.” consoled Louis, “But as I said, it probably won’t be very well received. All in all, I don’t think joining a new faith is too big a hurdle compared to the other responsibilities you’ll have.”

“Do I even want to ask?”

“Probably not, but you can’t always get what you want. Suffice it to say, having lost the war, Ierne is in a pretty bad place politically and economically. People will be looking to you for answers.”

“But no pressure right?”

“Of course not.”

Nonetheless, Hebron wore an anxious expression as they made their way across the land bridge. He said very little, an occurrence Louis thought a pleasant if not slightly disconcerting change. As they road through the day, the travelers watched as the pastoral green countryside slowly transformed into an urban sprawl, the thatched cottages dotting the landscape being replaced with squalid hovels jammed together and littered with refuse. They were nearing their destination. 

 

“We’re fast approaching.” observed Louis, “Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?”

“Why ever would I want to do that?” asked Hebron, his usual bravado instantly replacing any sign of concern, “It’s not every day you’re just handed a kingdom.”

“You do realize that this is most likely a trap.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always a trap!” Louis declared in exasperation.

“Well we’re still here to talk about it aren’t we? Surely we must be doing something right.”

“Don’t you find any of this somewhat suspicious?” Louis lowered his voice. “I mean even if you have some claim to the throne due to some obscure rule, you still need people to support that claim; and I’m not sure you’ve noticed this, but until recently you were considered an enemy of the people.”

“Those two don’t seem to have any problem with me.” Hebron said, pointing to the two demons up front.

“That’s even more suspicious!” whispered Louis, “I know they were supposed to bring us back unharmed, but don’t you think they’ve been acting a little too accommodating? That they’re following their orders a little too well?”

Hebron picked at his teeth. “Well, the way I see it, Ierne still operates on the whole might-makes-right principle, right?”

“Yes.” said Louis, “So?”

“So, that means that only the biggest and the baddest fiends get to be in charge. Now, if you worked for Greater Demons and the like, monsters that could tear you to pieces or burn you to a crisp without a second thought, would you ever disobey a command?”

“Huh.” said Louis, nodding his head. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

“Somebody had to.”

 

As they made their way through the city, the silhouette of Castle Dúnna nGall loomed over the horizon.

“We’re almost there.” announced one of the demons.

“Never thought we’d see this place again.” muttered Hebron. 

“Not after your great final battle with Demon King.” agreed Louis

“Oh yeah.” mused Hebron, “Good times, good times...”  
“Good times? You had your leg sliced open, a rib broken, and a lung pierced!”

“I did, didn’t I? Think they’ve fixed the chandelier yet?”

“I wish you would take this seriously. This is a big deal. The stability of two kingdoms and the fate of millions rest solely on your shoulders. This is a big responsibility, and any goofing off on your part could lead to dire consequences.”

“Relax! I know what I’m doing. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

“Let me guess, is it ‘the Hero of Albion’?”

“Exactly! Who was it that defeated the dreaded Pirate Lord Edward?”

“You.”

“And who was it that vanquished the Mad Wizard Rodney in his obsidian tower?”

“You.”

“And who was it that slew the Fell Beast of Balfour?

“Orgoth.”

“What? No! I did that.”

“If I recall correctly, you spent the majority of the battle under sway of the creature’s noxious breath. It was only near the end that you were able to fight off its paralyzing effects.”

“Yes, but I struck the final blow, meaning it was my kill.”

“Whatever you say, brother.”

“Look, the point is that know how to handle myself in a tough situation, and I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty doing so.”

“Oh, well excuse me for doubting you. You’ve clearly got everything under control.”

“Why thank you.” said Hebron

“Forgive me for questioning wise judgement. Once again you’ve proven yourself far more competent than I could ever hope to be.”

“Well, I try.”

“I bow to your supreme mastery of everything you attempt, oh great Hero of Albion.”

“Uh...”

“All hail Hebron Morgenstern, Sovereign Lord of Ierne, long may he reign!”

Hebron stared at him critically.

“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

 

The interior of the castle was just as dark and dreary as they remembered it, if not more so. Where before there was a sense great power and eminence, there was now only sorrow and emptiness. What ever invisible force had once inhabited those walls was now gone, and everyone in the castle felt it. 

“I think you were right about that interior decorator thing.” murmured Hebron.

As they trekked through the castle’s expanse, they passed by the throne room, the site of the climactic duel between the Dark Lord and Hebron. It was here that the final battle for the fate of two kingdoms was fought. Workers were still trying to repair the damage. A cluster of skeletons was cleaning scorch marks from the walls. A team of goblins was working to fix a broken pillar. A group of perplexed kobolds stood around an enormous crystal chandelier, which lay shattered in the center of the room. Hebron chuckled.

They passed through a number of doorways and up an even greater number of stairs before making their way to the royal study. 

 

If the throne room was the heart of Ierne, this was its brain. As they opened the door, they came upon an interesting sight. A greater demon and a distinguished looking woman were taking turns yelling at both each other and at a hooded figure seated between them. A number of interested parties were standing along the sidelines, watching in amusement.

“This is an outrage! An atrocity!” yelled the demon, “The Karloff family has ruled this kingdom for centuries!”

“Which is exactly why we are in such a mess!” replied the woman. “If it wasn’t for your family’s rampant imperialism, Albion would have left us to our own devices. We wouldn’t have heroes running around causing trouble and we wouldn’t have to waste taxpayers’ money funding mad sorcerers. No offense, Lord Turin”

“Non taken.” said the hooded figure.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is.” asserted the demon, “What matters is repairing the damage, and with all this chaos, the last thing this kingdom needs is a regime change.”

“On the contrary,” said the woman, “it is times like these where change is the most important. When old traditions become obsolete, new traditions must come in to take their place. The people need to see that something is being done, and there’s no better way to show it than to do away with this lopsided pecking order you so foolishly defend.”

“You only wish to abolish the demonic hierarchy so that you can construct a new one with your kind on top!” countered the demon.

“That’s nonsense!” scoffed the woman. “Complete and utter nonsense! And even if it were true, it would hardly be unjustified. Whatever the case, things would certainly run much smoother.”

“I don’t see how any regime could run smoothly under such a gutless coward!”

“I beg you pardon?!”

“You think we haven’t all noticed? Out of all the Noble Lords, you are the only one not to take even a step onto the battlefield!”

“And out of all thirteen lords, how many are still alive? It is not through cowardliness that I abstain from fighting but from practicality. A true leader does not risk their life and the stability of their realm by tramping along the war zone like some battle-happy fool; they delegate. A lesson your father learned a little too late!”

“What did you say?!” yelled the demon, reaching for his sword.

“Um, is this a bad time?” spoke up Louis.

The three turned their heads to look at the newcomers.

“Ah, you’ve come.” said the hooded figure standing up, “Excellent!” It removed its hood to reveal a grey skull with a crown of bone. “May I be the first to welcome you to Ierne!”

“Who are they?” asked the woman.

“May I introduce Hebron Morgenstern, our new king.”

“What?!” shouted the demon. He began stomping towards Hebron. “You!” he growled menacingly as his drew his sword.

“Me?” said Hebron, likewise readying his weapon.

“My name is Prince Moloch Karloff. You killed my father. Prepare to d-”

The greater demon was stopped in his tracks by the two lesser demons, who dashed forward to restrain him.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. “Let go!”

“Sorry, sir.” said one of the demons. “We cannot allow you to harm the new king.”

“You’d take this murderer’s side over mine? Traitors! Filthy traitors, don’t touch me!”

“Well, this is certainly interesting.” remarked Hebron.

“It’s the power of public office.” mused Louis.

“Coward! Swine!” shouted the greater demon. “Come over here so I can skin you alive!”

“Really? If I go over to you, you’ll skin me alive?” inquired Hebron.

“And eviscerate the remains!”

“Well that’s not much of an incentive for me to go over there, now is it?”

“Don’t antagonize him.” nagged Louis, as the demon screamed oaths to various infernal gods.

“Why not? It’s funny.”

“It’s called making a good first impression. The first things people see you do have the longest lasting impact on their perceptions of you.”

“Fine...” sighed Hebron, “I’ll play nice.” He turned to the demon. “What do you say, big guy? Wanna be friends?”

“I will devour your soul!” was the reply.

“You’ll have to excuse him, Your Majesty.” said the distinguished woman, gliding over to the brothers the way a hawk glides towards a field mouse. “The _former_ prince has been a little brought down since the death of his father, and he hasn’t been taking the transition well.”

“I’ll kill you!” screamed the demon, “I’ll kill you all!”

“I am Countess Mircalla. It is truly an honor to make your acquaintance, your lordship.”

“I’m Hebron.” said the hero hesitantly, “Pleased to meet you too.”

The Countess smiled. “You have no need to be shy around me, Your Majesty. I am but a humble servant of the crown.” She bent her knee in a gesture of subservience, giving the brothers an interesting perspective of the contours of her dress.

“This might be a rude question” started Hebron, “but what kind of... what type of... are you a...”

Louis jumped in. “I think what my brother means to say is that you look remarkably human for a denizen of Ierne.”

The woman laughed, a gentle and melodious laugh. “That is because I once was human, a very long time ago. I am a porphyric revanant, what your people would call a vampire.” She gave a wide smile, displaying her large and presumably sharp fangs.

“Wow.” said Hebron. “Must be hard finding a dentist with those.”

“You have no idea.” replied the countess.

“I am glad to see you are getting yourself acquainted with everyone.” said the shrouded skeleton, appearing beside Mircalla. “I shall therefore take this opportunity to introduce myself. My name is Salvador Turin, and I am the one who summoned you here.”

“And what are you?” asked Hebron.

“Why, I am a lich of course. I would have thought that was obvious by my evident lack of anything resembling living tissue.”

“No, I mean what position are you? A steward? A chamberlain?”

The lich put a bony hand to his chin. “That’s an interesting question right there. Officially I am nothing, but unofficially I am everything. Confusing, isn’t it?”

“So what your saying is that you have no formal rank or title, but you hold enough sway with those that do that you are considered a major power?” guessed Louis.

“Yes.” said the lich in surprise, “That is it exactly. Who might you be?”

“I am Louis, Hebron’s younger brother. I’m not sure if that makes me a prince or anything, but I thought that I might as well tag along to help.”

“Well, here in Ierne, Prince is a rather informal title, thus why it can be so freely given or taken.” he gestured to the restrained demon, who was threatening to do unspeakable things to Hebron’s internal organs.

“He has a remarkable understanding of human anatomy.” commented Louis.

“That being said,” continued Salvador, “If the king wished to, he could entrust you with certain royal powers and privileges to be used in his stead. You would be a trustee, carrying out his will however you see fit. A position not unlike my own.”

“Were you a trustee under the previous king?” asked Louis.

“Not exactly. Like you guessed before, I have not titles, official or otherwise. I am not part of any house, guild, or organization. I have no friends or family to influence me. I am a completely unbiased third party, thus why Asmodeus trusted me to handle the matter of his successor.”

“Could you have picked anyone?”

“Yes, if I felt they were suitable for the position.”

“In that case, why not crown yourself king?”

The lich gave a hearty laugh, an impressive feat for a being presumably lacking a larynx.

“Let me show you something.” Salvador led the two over to a large window overlooking the whole kingdom. “Do you see that tower over there?” he pointed to a tall stone spire in the distance. Against the setting sun it resembled a white dagger stabbing at the heavens.

“Yes.” said Louis, “It’s very nice.”

“I know it’s nice, I built it. That tower is my domain, and inside is stored, archived, and catalogued every book ever written. Every war, every romance, every piece of literature in western history is housed within those walls. And do you know what I do with my massive collection?”

“You read them?”

“I read them! All day and every day, I sit and I read. I have no need to eat or sleep or defecate; nothing interrupts my enjoyment. The only exception to this rule is my weekly game night with some old colleagues and the occasional university lecture. Other than that, I spend every second of my eternal life engrossed in my books; and I wouldn’t give that up for anything. My way of life is perfect, perfect in every way you can imagine, and the only things that can drag me away are my efforts to preserve that lifestyle. The only reason I’m talking to you now is because doing so will improve the stability of Ierne, where my tower just happens to be located. So, in an eggshell, my only interest is preserving the peace in Ierne, and by that I mean finding someone to do it for me.”

“So why pick me?” asked Hebron.

“Because just like me, you have no friends in Ierne. No connections, no affiliations. Nothing to get you tangled up in that big bureaucratic ball of false loyalties and betrayal that caused this war in the first place. You’re a clean slate, politically speaking. No one likes you, meaning they’ll all trust you.”

“But surely you’d expect us to show some loyalties towards Albion.” said Louis, “We did just fight a war on their behalf.”

“I did expect that, and in fact my entire diabolical plan depends on it.”

“Diabolical?”

“Did I say diabolical? I just meant plan. My normal, mundane, completely innocuous plan. Forgive my slip of the tongue.”

“So what about Albion? How can you trust us to be completely unbiased?”

“Oh, it’ll be fine. I put my faith in you, and that’s all that matters. There’s no need to discuss the issue any further. What’s the point in dwelling on unpleasantness? And speaking of which...” he gestured towards something behind the brothers, “Hello Terence.”

“Hello.” came a monotone voice. The brothers looked behind them only to shriek in terror.

“Yes, I get that a lot.”

Before them was a creature so unnerving, it was almost beyond description. It’s face was not frightening, per se, but rather such a deviation from what could be rationally considered a face that the only word that came to mind was gruesome.

“Yes, just go on staring.” said the creature flatly, the movement of its hard grey skin more akin to that a puppet than a living being, “You’re really doing wonders for my self-esteem.”

“This is Terence.” explained the lich, “He is the royal advisor, and will be assisting you in your duties.”

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t burn the kingdom to the ground, as if that were a less desirable state. And before you ask, I’m a gargoyle and yes we all look like this”.

“A gargoyle? Do you mean like those statues they put on the sides of buildings to channel rainwater?”

“Yes. Thank you for reducing my people’s culture to a racial stereotype. Now stick out your arm.”

“Um, okay.”

Hebron did so, giving Terence the opportunity to pull out a syringe of golden liquid and inject it into his arm.

“Ow!” he yelped, pulling his arm back in an unsurprising mixture anger and surprise. “What in the world was that?”

“Mithridate.” said Terence matter-of-factly, “It’s a rare substance that grants the body immunity to the 65 most common poisons, venoms, and toxins. As you may have already guessed, your act of regicide has earned you more than a few enemies, many of whom would like to follow your example and become king for themselves. No sense in making it easier for them.” He held up a small white and gold jar. “Not that you are completely immune to poison. There are certain substances, such as cyanide, which are deadly no matter how many times you are exposed to it. You’ll have to watch what you eat. And drink. And touch. And breath. Also you should stop sleeping if you can.”

"Terence, this is stupid stuff!" cried Hebron, knocking the jar to the ground. It shattered, the golden liquid seeping out and slipping through gaps in the floorboards.

“Oh dear.” said Terence without a hint of emotion. “That was the last of our supply. The rest was going to war orphans in the hospital. I suppose they’ll all die now. Excellent work, Your Majesty.”

“Is that true?” asked Louis.

“No.” said Terence, “Mithridate’s too expensive to waste on orphans. As an aside, you should think twice before sticking your arm out for a complete stranger simply because they told you to.”

“Forgive me for trusting you.” said Hebron, rubbing his arm.

“You are forgiven.” replied the gargoyle in a deadpan tone, “And you should not underestimate those around you. The danger of being challenged or assassinated is very real. Case in point,” he gestured to the greater demon Moloch, who had thrown off the two lesser demons and was being contained by a pair of giant skeletal hands conjured by Salvador.

“This can’t hold me forever!” the demon roared, “I shall escape and you shall taste my vengeance! It shall be swift and it shall be painful! You will beg for death!”

“Well he’s no poet, but you have to give him points for presentation.” remarked Louis.

“And they won’t all be as forthright as Moloch.” Terence carried on, “Take Countess Mircalla.” 

“If you insist.” bantered Hebron.

“She may seem friendly and accommodating now, but this is only because she knows that she can always turn you into one of her thralls if you don’t comply with her desires. If that weren’t an option, she’d be throwing as big a tantrum as the former prince right now.”

“Thralls?” asked Hebron.

“Human servants under the influence of a vampire’s dark power. Forced to do their master’s bidding and serve as the occasional blood source.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve heard vampires posses a supernatural glamour, but I did not know they could do that.” Hebron said with an uncharacteristic hint of fear.

“You seem not to know a lot of things. Are you planning on making this a common occurrence, you not knowing something and me explaining it? If so, may I propose you save time by composing a list of all your inane questions, placing it inside a fresh envelope, and sending it to someone who cares.”

“How are we supposed to make a list of things we don’t know about if we don’t know about the things we are making a list of?” asked Louis, interpreting Terence’s lack of sarcastic tone as sincerity.

“Obviously we’re supposed to make a list of all the things we do know, then write down everything that is not on that list.” said Hebron, playing along for no particular reason.

“Going simply by first impressions, I have a feeling the second part will take considerably longer than the first.” quipped Terence, an unknowable amount of derision in his voice.

Hebron cracked his knuckles and smirked. “Tell me stone man, is there a backup advisor in case somebody accidentally smashes your face in?”

“Fortunately or unfortunately, the position has recently become vacant, and we haven’t had time to select a suitable replacement. So for better or worse, we’re stuck with each other. Unless you think you can successfully run a kingdom and manage its infrastructure without my help. If that is the case, then by all means, smash my face in. But if not, then I suppose you could say I have absolute job security.”

“Then could you at least stop insulting me like that?”

“But of course. In what alternative manner would you prefer me to insult you?”

Before Hebron could respond, Louis laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Brother,” he spoke softly, “I have witnessed you defeat many a powerful foe, so believe me when I tell you that this is one battle you cannot win.”

“Fine.” grumbled Hebron. “I’ll just let it go.”

“See, you’re learning.” Terence said with a dull, nigh undetectable air of satisfaction. “At this rate you’ll be a wiser king then our last Dark Lord; once you officially become king that is.”

“Oh yeah.” muttered Hebron, “When am I going to be crowned? Is there some sort of coronation?”

“Ordinarily, yes.” said Terence, “However, Lord Turin expressed his desire to conclude this matter of succession as speedily as possible. We can organize whatever kind of extravagant ceremony you prefer at a later date, but right now we’ll just be undergoing the legal formalities.” And with that the demon produced a stack of forms. He placed them on the desk and began flipping through them, highlighting various vows, benedictions, and consecrations involved in the investiture process. Halfway through he stopped and looked towards one of the bystanders at the edge of the room. “Father Anput,” he called, “we require your assistance for this part.”

The elderly clergyman nodded and stepped forward. The two brothers didn’t need to be told that this individual, with his fur, tail, and canine muzzle, was a werewolf. 

“We need you to do the Infernal Vow, the Rite of Crowning, and possibly stand witness if you’re up to it.” explained Terence in a businesslike manner.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Oh, right.” Terence gestured to the wolf man disinterestedly, “Father Canaan Anput, Low Priest of the Abyssal Church.” 

“I am at your service, your excellency.” said the priest.

“Um, thank you?” said Hebron

“You are very much welcome, your majesty.” 

“I hafta say, I’m not used to being referred to so formally.” laughed Hebron, “It’s a little strange.”

“Well you shall have plenty of time to get used to it.” came a voice of from behind him. He turned around to find Salvador, leering over his shoulder. It took all of Hebron’s resolve not to scream.

“I apologize if I shocked you. I merely thought that, now that you have gotten to know everyone, or at least everyone of consequence, it would be a good time to begin the crowing.”

Hebron simply nodded.

“Excellent!” beamed the lich. “Alright everyone, gather round. Time to get down to business!” All present, with exception to the hollering Moloch, gathered in a circle around Salvador and the two brothers. “I, Salvador Turin, having been vested by the the previous king, Demon Lord Asmodeus, with the responsibility of choosing his successor, with able body, mind, and spirit, with the honest and full intention of protecting the longevity of Ierne, do chose this individual to act as the sole beneficiary to the title, position, rites, rights, and responsibilities of kinghood, Hebron Morgenstern of Afer!”

Father Anput stepped foreword. “As representative of the church, I, Canaan Anput, acknowledge the rule of Hebron Morgenstern, and pledge my loyalty to him.

Countess Mircalla stepped foreword. “As representative of the nobility, I, Mircalla Karnstein, acknowledge the rule of Hebron Morgenstern, and pledge my loyalty to him.

Terence stepped forward. “As representative of the commons, I, Terence Housman,  acknowledge the rule of Hebron Morgenstern, and pledge my loyalty to him.

Salvador nodded towards Father Anput. He straightened up, his whitening fur bristling in anticipation. “Hebron Morgenstern!” The priest announced, “Do you accept the responsibilities presented to you as Dark Lord?”

“Sure” said Hebron.

Father Anput hesitated, unsure whether that was an acceptable response. He turned to Terence who nodded. Regaining his composure, he continued:

“Do you swear to uphold the tenets of Abyssism, and to defend the infernal faith from all dissent?”

“Certainly.” replied Hebron.

The priest didn’t stop, but it was clear he was losing a bit of his resolve.

“Do you vow to protect the nation of Ierne and its citizens? To serve its needs and promote its interests?”

“Why not?” smiled the hero.

Father Anput glanced at Terence pleadingly. Terence raised an eyebrow at Louis skeptically. Louis glared at Hebron frustratedly. Hebron rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I vow to protect Ierne, its citizens, its needs, and its interests. I swear to uphold Abyssism, and I accept the responsibilities of Dark Lord.”

Alleviated, Father Anput beckoned to a pumpkin headed altar boy, who strode forward carrying an opulently decorated box. The priest opened it to reveal a regal black and gold crown adorned with red gems. He reverently picked it up and raised it over Hebron’s head in a ceremonial manner.

“I crown thee: King Hebron, Sovereign Ruler of Ierne and Dark Lord of the Kingdom of Fiends!”

 

The post-crowning feast wasn’t anything like the feast in Albion. While the Princess’s hall was crowded with food, people, and the air of celebration, Castle Dúnna nGall’s was quite and somber, the clergy seated on one end and castle staff gathered at the other. Louis sat alone. He was used to the strange feeling of alienation one gets whilst sitting among unfamiliar company, but this particular company did nothing to alleviate his angst. The dark and frightening creatures on all sides ate and talked, paying no mind to the lone human in their midst. Were they ignoring him or did they simply not care? He wasn’t sure which possibility bothered him more. 

As Louis sat awkwardly in the midst of this gluttony, one question occupied his mind.

“Where in the world is Hebron!?”

A sultry voice interrupted his thoughts.

“So... Louis, was it?”

He looked up to find Countess Mircalla seated directly across from him.

“H-hi.” he squeaked, at a loss for more sophisticated words.

“I must say, I’ve heard many incredible tales about your brother’s exploits, but nothing about you. Would you care to indulge my curiosity?”

“W-what?”

“Tell me about yourself.” the Countess said, a bit sterner. Louis took a breath to gather his resolve.

“Well ma'am, there isn’t much to tell. My brother is the hero, not I. I mostly just tagged along to help. Like I’m doing now, I suppose.” He remembered what Terence had said about vampires and thralls. He tried to avoid her gaze, but at the same time he didn’t want to appear rude. He compromised by taken a sudden and keen interest in the food in front of him.

“Surely that can’t be true.” smiled Mircalla sweetly, “His majesty may have muscles and charm, but from you I can detect something far more precious: a stunning intellect. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if, deep down inside, you had enough potential to be the greatest hero this land has ever seen, greater than your brother even.”

Louis shivered. He had never heard such blatant flattery. It was clear that the Countess was trying to appeal to his ego, trying to manipulate him, but for what purpose? Was she trying to turn him against his brother, trying to use him as a means to gain more power? 

“No.” thought Louis, “If Hebron and I are to make it out of this, it has to be together.” He hazarded a glance upwards at the woman.

“That’s nice of you to say, ma’am; but I doubt I’d ever make too great of a hero. I have little interest in danger and excitement, and no skill in fighting to speak of.”

“But that’s just it isn’t it. To win without fighting, surely there is no greater act of heroism. The kings of the past might have been great brutes and fighters, but the leaders of tomorrow are the thinkers and the diplomats. True power lies not in physical might or prowess, but the ability to make friends out of enemies. That is something you humans have taught us. Or, at least me.”

“I appreciate the flattery, I really do; but I’m not a leader, and if I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I don’t believe that I have the capabilities to become one.”

“Very well.” said the Countess, with a dignified pout, “But if you are ever in need of a friend, you know where to find me.” Rising delicately, she gave one last smile before sashaying away. 

Louis sighed. “Dear Lord, that was terrifying.”

Just as things appeared to be quieting down, Hebron materialized behind Louis, throwing a big arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“Hey there!” he said cheerily, “Sorry I’m late. Hope I didn’t miss anything important.”

“I should think so!” Where have you been?” asked Louis incredulously.

“Oh, just mailing a letter. Nothing important. I think the real question is what you have been up to.”

“Waiting for you.”

“That all? I saw the Countess walk off just now. What were you two talking about, hmm? I hope you weren’t thinking of chatting her up while my back was turned”

“Of course not!” exclaimed Louis. “That’s ridiculous. And what do you mean while your back was turned? I don’t recall you having claim over every female we encounter; though I suppose that’s not from from lack of trying.” 

“You make it sound like I’m some kind of philanderer.”

“Are you not?”

“Look, every hero needs a love interest. It’s a part of the narrative. I’m simply fulfilling an occupational obligation.”

“What about the Princess? Weren’t you two deeply in love, spring wedding and everything?”

“But, of course! I’m shocked you would even suggest otherwise. But, considering how it isn’t official or anything yet, I see nothing wrong with keeping my options open.”

“You’re disgusting”, Louis muttered lethargically, “If I were a woman, and not your brother, I’d call you a pig.”

“Well I should hope that if you were a woman, you wouldn’t be my brother. That would just be awkward for everyone involved.”

 

As Louis was being led to what would be his new bedroom, he began to ponder his place in this whole debacle. Him and his brother were both born in Albion, and as citizens of the Kingdom of Heroes, it was their patriotic duty to hate Ierne and all its inhabitants. Yet it was exactly because of this that they were put in charge of Ierne and handed the responsibility of its protection. They were also entrusted by the Princess the responsibility of preventing further conflict between the two kingdoms. The question then was how they were to juggle these responsibilities. Naturally they were expected to serve their home nation, but at the same time they were obligated to support that nation’s enemy. Were the two kingdoms even enemies anymore, now that the war had ended? Could a simple treaty end decades of animosity? It would be foolish to pretend that there wasn’t a clear conflict of interest, and even more foolish not to pick a side. Ideally, they would work for the mutual betterment of both nations, but pragmatism told Louis that this wasn’t a realistic solution. Experience told him that compromise lead only to concessions, and that some differences were simply irreconcilable. The more he thought of it, the more confusing the situation seemed. He wished he could be like Hebron, who could act without thinking and yet always ending up on top. He smirked. Perhaps his brother really was the best person for the job. His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of shouting.

“What do you think you are doing? Put that down this instant! I will not stand for this impertinence!”

Louis turned the corner to find ex-prince Moloch yelling at the two lesser demons who had escorted the brothers earlier. They were busy carrying out boxes and furniture, completely indifferent to the screaming greater demon. 

“Do you think this is a game? This is my domain! My inner sanctum! My solitary fortress! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

The duo either had nerves of steel or a pathological dedication to duty. Louis was willing to bet on the latter.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, cautiously entering the scene.

“Oh, hello sir.” said the shorter demon, “You’ll have to gives us a few more minutes. We’re almost finished clearing out the Prince’s suite.”

“No, you are not!” yelled Moloch. “This place has been my dwelling since the day I was spawned; I will not allow it to be perverted by some uncouth outsider!”

“Um, hello.” said the human stepping forward, “My name is Louis, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot earlier.” When Moloch didn’t respond he continued. “I suppose as far as first meetings go, that was among the more awkward.” he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, “Hehe, yeah... I hope you’re not the kind to hold a grudge, because you look really strong, and I’m rubbish in a fight.”

The demon scoffed, “Like I would hold any enmity towards the likes of you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My quarrel is with murderer wearing my father’s crown, not his lowly stooge.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Do not take my lack of animosity as any type of regard. Quite the opposite. You are so beneath my concern that the very act of slaughtering you would be an undue expenditure of time and energy.”

“That’s a bit rude to say, don’t you think?”

“And why exactly would I waste precious civility on one so devoid of merit, that they only way they could every dream of holding rank is by piggybacking off another’s accomplishments?”

“Do you mean the princehood?

“Of course I mean the princehood! If it wasn’t for the fact that your snake of the brother stole the throne out from under me, you wouldn’t even be here!”

“No offense, but couldn’t the same be said for you? I imagine that you were only ever prince because of your father.”

“How dare you! I have proved my might, both on and off the battlefield, time and time again! I should have been at my father’s side during that fateful duel, but I was waylaid by that loathsome wench Cordelia and her troglodyte companion Orgoth.” He seethed, slamming his fist into the wall and shaking the castle.

“I can see you’re really upset by this. We can change the subject if you want.”

“Idle conversation shall not quell my rage. In order to restore my family’s honor, I must vanquish the usurper king, reclaim the throne, bring Ierne back to its former glory, and most importantly PUT THAT BOX BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM, IT WAS UNDER THE BED FOR A REASON!” He pointed a crimson finger at the taller demon, who was carrying a mysterious box simply labeled “private”.

Louis shuffled his feet uneasily. “You know,” he said, “you can have the room if you want.”

Moloch turned back to him. “What did you say?”

“I mean it makes no difference to me where I stay; I just got here. And you seem pretty attached to this room.”

“Are you trying to insult me? I would rather die than accept your pity.”

“Its got nothing to do with pity. It’s simply a matter of maximized utility. I’m used to sleeping in a tent; I’d get the same amount of enjoyment out of any old hovel. But clearly you would be most comfortable in this room and this room alone, and having lived in it the longest you probably know how to use it best as well. When you get down to it, it’s hardly thaumaturgy.”

“If this is some sad attempt at gaining my favor...”

“I’m just trying to be nice. They way I see it, we’re all in the same boat. We’re both stuck in an unfavorable situation, so we might as well try to work together.”

“Your troubles are in no ways like mine.” spat the demon, “You know nothing of my pain. Nevertheless, I shall accept your relinquishment of my lodgings.” He turned back to the other demons. “You heard him didn’t you? Get everything back to where it was. I don’t want to see a scale out of place!”

Louis ended up in a small guest room. It wasn’t much, but after that little spectacle just then, he supposed he didn’t have any right to be picky. 

“It could be worse.” he thought to himself. “Probably.”

He wasn’t concerned with the lack of space, as he had very little to fill it with. As an adventurer, he was accustomed to carrying all his earthly possessions on his back. He flipped open his bag and began to unpack. First was his shield. This trusty piece of wood and metal had saved him from grievous bodily harm on more than one occasion, and he always wore it on his back, just in case. Then there was the first aid kit. He had been obliged to used this whenever Cordelia was absent or feeling particularly uncooperative. He paused solemnly at his next possession. It was the knife he never used. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Perhaps the situation was never dire enough to draw it, or maybe he simple lacked the nerve. Regardless, the small blade remained ever in its sheath, a constant remainder of some unnamable dread. As far as he knew, there was no blade, and he had been carrying an empty handle and cover this whole time. No, he knew it had a blade. He had seen it in use by its previous owner. Louis immediately stopped his train of thought, trying in vain not to remember the incident at Glasgow. That one event had cast am impenetrable shadow over the party’s adventure, so much so that all four remaining members agreed never to speak of it again. Louis had kept his part, as had Hebron, Cordelia, and Orgoth; at least to his knowledge. Desperate to clear his head, he reached out for the next item. It was his loot bag. Despite his status as a noncombatant, the others had been generous enough to give him a share of the party’s earnings, after an urging from Hebron of course. He had ended up with less than a small fortune, but more than a tidy sum for his efforts. The majority of these spoils was no doubt due to their brief stint as privateers (read: pirates), a thrilling diversion from the grim business Louis was still having trouble forgetting. He looked towards his bed. If time could heal all wounds, than certainly sleep could ease all troubles.

 

The next morning, Louis let out a restful yawn. He experienced a few moments peace, before he remembered that he was in Castle Dúnna nGall in the heart of the Kingdom of Fiends, and that he would be waking up in said castle for the rest of the foreseeable future.

“Hebron, I swear, if you don’t find a way out of this...” he muttered, awake enough to make threats but not coherent enough to form complete thoughts. When he found his way up to the royal study, he found the gargoyle Terence at the desk, sifting through another stack of papers.

“Morning” said Louis.

“Afternoon”  replied Terence, not looking up from his forms.

“Huh?”

“It ceased being morning an hour and a half ago. You slept right through breakfast.”

“What? Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“I’m an advisor, not a chambermaid.”

Louis sighed. “Where’s Hebron, I need to speak to him.”

“He’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I mean he is not here. He left you a note.” Terence pointed to the bedroom.

Puzzled, Louis walked over to the gilded doors and knocked. When there was no response, he turned the knob and went inside. The royal bedchambers were decorated with rich black and red tapestries. Golden candles and priceless vases adorned the tables and shelves. The furniture was constructed entirely of black velvet and ebony. 

Louis cringed. “I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.” As Louis examined the room, two thoughts occurred to him. The first was that demons seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with the color black. The second was that this room was far too neat. Usually, whenever Hebron claimed a room, it would take several days and heavy use of incense to get it back to livable condition. Either castle Dúnna nGall had an unreasonably efficient cleaning staff, or something was very wrong. He spotted a letter on the bedside table. It was addressed to him. He carefully opened it, half expecting something horrible to fall out. There was only a note. It was covered with rows of distorted squiggles that could charitably be described as “words”.

“Yup, this is definitely from Hebron.” concluded Louis, as he began to read:

 

Dear Louis,

So, I’ve been doing some thinking. I know, scary right? And it occurred to me that _maybe_ I’m not exactly cut out for the whole ruling a sovereign nation thing. It’s just not me. I’ve decided to take some time off to do some soul searching, finding myself and all that tripe. I should be gone a couple weeks, a month or two tops. I’m also bringing Orgoth and Cordelia along; both for my safety and frankly because they’re fun to be around. In any case, I’m gonna need you to hold down the fort for a little while, take care things while I’m gone, make sure nothing crazy happens, etc, etc. I’d also like it if you could keep an eye on the Princess for me. I know the two of you don’t know each other very well, but a lot can change in a few weeks. Now I realize that this is a lot to take in, and I don’t want to put any pressure on you or force you into a situation you’re uncomfortable with; just know that the stability of two kingdoms and the fate of millions rest solely on your shoulders. This is a big responsibility you know, I don’t want to come back to find you goofing off. Anyhow, I’m running short on time and this letter’s gotten long enough. I’m not sure if you know this, but I really hate writing. Perhaps that’s why my poetry career never took off... Meh. Anyway, so long and take care.

Your favorite older brother,

Hebron

 

Louis stared down in horror, struggling to comprehend what he had just read.

“Please, no.” he murmured. “For the love of God, Hebron, don’t do this!”

“Everything okay in there?” called Terence.

“No, everything is not okay.” answered Louis, “Everything is very not okay.”

“I’m guessing that you’ve read the letter. You’re honestly taken better than I expected.”

“I suppose so...” muttered Louis, in a daze. Suddenly something clicked.

“You knew about this?” questioned Louis, storming out of the bedroom.

“His majesty asked me to proofread some of it.” answered the advisor dryly, “The grammatical flow was good but his spelling is atrocious.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop him?”

“You do know how a hierarchy works, right? A king gives orders to his subordinates, not the other way around.”

“Well do you at least know where he went?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Someone must have seen him leave.”

“I doubt it. He left around the brink of dawn, the exact time when the creatures of the night settle into bed, and the daywalkers struggle to get out of theirs. In hindsight, that was rather brilliant of him. Perhaps I underestimated the new king’s intelligence?”

“That’s a specialty of his, playing the fool only to play you for one.”

“Is it?” the gargoyle replied in a bored manner. “How interesting.”

“How can you be so nonchalant right now?  This is bad. This is very very bad. Hebron is gone! We don’t know where he went! He may never come back! We’re doomed!”

“Calm down, we are not doomed. Who did he leave in charge?”

“Um...” Louis glanced back down at the letter. “Me.”

“Okay, now we’re doomed.”


	2. Chapter 2

Louis paced around the room frantically, his fists clenched in anxiety. Terence watched this for a few moments, showing no outward signs of amusement, before returning to his papers. Louis stopped and stared at him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Reading some reports on local cult activity. You should keep your eye on the Squid Circle.”

“I mean what are you going to do about this?”

“This?”

“This! The situation we are currently in.”

“I think the better question is what you are going to do about it.”

“Me?”

“As you said, the king left you in charge. What are your orders Your Highness?”

“But I can’t do this without Hebron!”

“Until he returns, it seems that you’ll have to.”

“What I mean is that I can’t be in charge! I don’t know how to lead a nation of men, er, monsters. I’m not the commanding kind!”

The gargoyle raised an eyebrow. “Then this will be a very interesting administration.” 

Groaning, Louis fell into the chair behind the desk and hid his face in his hands.

“This can’t be happening” he moaned.

“Not to contradict, Your Highness, but observable evidence suggests otherwise.”

“You are infuriatingly literal.” replied Louis. “And please don’t call me ‘Your Highness.’”

“As you wish, Your Excellency.” responded Terrence.

“Not that either.”

“Your Grace?”

“Stop.”

“In any case, the task of managing the kingdom’s affairs will seem much less daunting once you’ve established your court.”

“My-”

“Your court. Your retinue. Your round table. The assembly of advisors you keep to assist you in your duties.”

“Isn’t that what you’re for?”

“I am your chief advisor, yes. But my expertise lies solely in the realm of infrastructure and administration. There is more to a nation than its government. There’s its people, its politics, its economy, its defense... If you want to run an efficient autocracy, you’ll need consultants with specialized knowledge of each.”

“Shouldn’t Ierne already have a full court?”

“We did, until you and your brother came along. All of our courtiers have either been slain in battle or have fled the country. All that’s left is Hekate and I.”

Louis stared at him. “I’m going to have to ask who that is and have you act all annoyed at having to explain something which you consider common knowledge but that I would have no business knowing, aren’t I?”

“You learn fast.” said Terence, flipping through his stack of papers and handing Louis a sheet.

 

Full Legal Name: Hekate Anput

Sex: Female

Race: Witch

Place of Origin: Misr

Date of Birth: July 23rd, 1397

Age: 108

Hair: White

Skin: Yes

Eyes: 2*

Height: 5’

Weight: [REDACTED]

Marital Status: Married

Occupation: Court Mage

Years of Service: 17

*Wadjet

 

“So she’s a court mage.” noted Louis. “And a witch.” he added with a shudder.

“Is there a problem with that?” asked Terence.

“No, it’s just that the last witch I talked to tried to turn me into a book. Not through magic either, the old fashion way.” 

“I can assure you that you will be very safe in Hekate’s hands.”

“Well, so long as you’re assuring me...”

“Also, and I think this should go without saying, but it would behove you not to conventionalize the actions of an individual as characteristics of that individual’s race.”

“Uh...” Louis gave him a vacant look.

“Stereotyping is bad.” the gargoyle spoke slowly, as if to a child.

“Oh, of course. I know that. I’m not trying to say that all witches are evil or anything, it’s just that... doesn’t becoming a witch involve selling your soul or something? To a demon? For power and forbidden knowledge?”

“Correct.”

“So my apprehension is valid.”

“I do not think you’ll have to worry about Hekate, considering she works for you. You literally sign her pay cheque.”

“It’s good to know loyalty here is so easily bought.”

Terence shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll change you’ll attitude once you actually meet her; which, assuming you’re getting her help for your evening with Countess Mircalla, shouldn’t be too long from now.”

“My what with who?”

“A messenger came by a few hours ago. The Countess has invited you to meet with her privately tonight. In her own home no less.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

“I’m an advisor, not a secretary.”

“Well I can’t actually be expected to attend, can I?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“But didn’t you say she’s only using me and Hebron to get what she wants?”

“I did say that.”

"So then how can I possibly trust someone who is so clearly manipulating me for their own ends?”

“I take it that you’re new to politics.”

“This isn’t funny!” cried Louis.

“I’m not joking. Dangerous or not, the Countess possesses valuable skills that you will need to legitimize your brother’s claim to the throne.”

“Wasn’t it already legitimized? We had a coronation, what more do we need?”

“Is that where you think supreme executive power comes from? From some superfluous ceremony?”

Louis thought for a moment. “No, I suppose it comes from the people.”

“If by people you mean six or seven very wealthy and politically powerful families, then you would be correct. How much do you know about the feudal system?”

“Feudalism? That’s where the peasants work the land, the nobles work the peasants, the crown manages the nobles, and the church manages everyone. I’m not sure about the merchants, I suppose they just do whatever they want.”

“A fair summation, however keep in mind that this is reciprocal. Just as they peasants provide goods and services for the nobles, the nobles must provide land to work and protection from external threats. If that mutualistic relationship is disrupted, the system falls apart and you have revolt. Likewise, just as the nobles pledge fealty to a monarch, the monarch must work to maintain the favor of their vassals, providing land, protection, and most importantly leadership.”

“And if I can’t do all that?”

“Then they will kill you and seize the throne for themselves.”

“Huh.” Louis felt his heart sink. “So there’s no getting out of this is there.”

“Not unless you are inclined to follow your brother’s example.”

“Is that an option?” 

“I would be, if you were willing to leave the kingdom in a state of leaderless chaos.”

“Couldn’t I just find someone else to do it? Appoint someone as a proxy like Hebron did.”

“You could, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re a proxy yourself. The power to appoint a trustee can only be held by the original title holder, that is to say, the king himself. If that wasn’t the case, there would be no limit to how power could be shared. You can only dilute executive authority so far before you have complete barbarism.”

“So instead you prefer to put all your eggs in one basket? Give all the power to one person to do with it as they wish?”

“It’s not a perfect system by any means, but it has worked so far. And there are mechanisms in place to protect our monarchs from unauthorized homicide; Mithridate being one of them.”

“Huh, I had completely forgotten about that stuff. You wouldn’t happen to have any left for me would you? I have a strong aversion to being poisoned.”

“If you recall, your brother, in his unfathomable wisdom, destroyed the last batch of the primary dose.”

“What do you mean by primary?”

“Mithridate is a multiple step medication. The first dose grants the immunity, the second stops the side effects.”

“What kind of side effects?”

 

Elsewhere, the great hero Hebron let out a cry of agony. He lay on the ground, veins throbbing on his beet red skin. Orgoth the Barbarian poked his head inside the tent to check on the screaming hero.

“How’re you doing Hebron? Feeling better?”

Hebron struggled to raise his hand, moving it just enough to produce an obscene gesture.

“I’ll take that as a no.”  
He returned outside to Cordelia and her books. She was rifling through an large tomb on exotic diseases, a determined grin on her face. Orgoth recognized that look. She was in her element. He placed a hand on her shoulder, breaking her out of her concentration. She looked up annoyed.

“Are you sure you don’t have some kind of painkiller to give him?”

“Not until I know what’s wrong with him. A conventional opiate may react badly with whatever substances are flowing through his system.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do to end his pain?”

Cordelia gave an innocent smile. “Well of course there is!”

“Without killing him.” Clarified Orgoth.

“In that case, no.”

 

As Louis walked the castle’s dark corridors, he began to contemplate the sheer outlandishness of his current predicament. On the advice of a gargoyle, he was going to see a witch to help him prepare for a meeting with a vampire in order to gain her assistance in pacifying multiple clans of aristocratic demons. This was by far the strangest thing he had ever done, which was quite a statement, all things considered.”

 “And the worst part?” he thought to himself “I shouldn’t even be here! I didn’t do anything to deserve this. I didn’t kill any kings or save any nations. I was a noncombatant for goodness sake! I am not indebted to Albion, and I certainly don’t owe anything to Ierne, so why should I be responsible for their wellbeing?” he sighed, wondering if it were too late to flee like Hebron.

At the end of the corridor Louis found a pair large oak doors. The brass handles were shaped to resemble snarling dragons and etched into the dark wood were ancient runes which glowed with some unknown enchantment. Louis assumed that this was the entrance to the mage tower. As he pulled the handles the doors let out a mighty squeak. The interior was dimly lit, illuminated only by a few faint lanterns, and Louis hesitated before stepping inside. As he entered the room a voice rang out, “Shut that door!”

In the faint light he was able to make out the shape of an elderly woman bent over. Turning his gaze to the ground, he saw several balls of darkness surging around the room. One seemed to notice his presence and charged towards him. Letting out a yelp, Louis slammed the door and dove out of the way. The dark anomaly stopped a few feet away from him and let out a mew. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Louis was able to discern a pair of ears, eyes, paws and a nose. It began to dawn on him that he was just frightened by a kitten.

“Sorry about that.” said the old woman, rushing towards him and scooping up the black kitten. “They just learned to run a week ago and since then I haven’t been able to keep them still. I’d keep them at home, but my husband isn’t exactly a cat person.” She gently deposited the kitten into a basket and offered her hand. “Hekate’s the name. Pleased to meet you.”

“Louis” replied the startled young man, tentatively taking the hand and shaking. “So I take it you’re the court mage?”

“The one and only!” she said with a youthful exuberance, “Welcome to my workshop!” She threw her arms out as if she were unveiling a work of art. 

“It’s very nice... I think.” replied Louis. “Honestly it’s kind of hard to tell, what with it being so dark in here.”

“Oh, so it is.” said Hekate. She snapped her finger and the hanging lanterns began to grow in intensity, illuminating the entire room. In the newfound light, Louis could see in full detail the features of his host. She looked exactly as old and withered as any proper witch should. Her skin was dark and wrinkled with age, her fingers gnarled and topped with yellowing split nails. Her right eye was bloodshot and her left was covered by a black eyepatch. She was dressed in an odd gold colored sundress, covered in arcane symbols and silhouettes of cats. She wore a scarab shaped amulet around her neck and had a tattoo of a stylized eye on her forehead. Her workshop was just as strange. 

From the ceiling hung various herbs, several of which Louis knew to be poisonous. The shelves were lined with hundreds of jars of all shapes and sizes, each containing a substance more bizarre than the last. On the counter top, flasks and beakers bubbled with strangely colored liquids, all without any apparent heat source. Near the wall hung a skeleton of indeterminate species. Most mysterious, however, was the large metal contraption in the center of the room. It was vaguely gourd shaped and stood upon three metal legs. Tubes poked into its copper body, carrying murky liquids in and out. Every few seconds it would gurgle or let out a faint whistling sound. As if sensing his curiosity, Hekate sauntered over to the machine. She fiddled with some out of sight components, and came back with a tall pitcher.

“Aqua vitae?” she asked.

“Never this early.”

“Suit yourself.” she shrugged, before downing the entire pint. It must have been satisfying, judging by contented sigh she gave out.

“So what is it that I can do for you today?” she sang, looking back up at Louis.

“Well I-”

“Wait!” she said, holding up a finger “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

“Actually-”

“Oh, I’ve got it! The coronation! You were there with the new king. One of his followers, I think?”

“I’m his brother.” Louis stated crossly.

“Oh goodness, my apologies.” she said, putting her hands up placatingly

He sighed. “It’s fine. You are neither the first nor the last person to see me as another one of his lackeys.”

“Believe me,” she chuckled, “I don’t see you in any such capacity.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“Not kind, simply accurate.” she chuckled again, as if she had just made a subtle joke that he wouldn’t understand until sometime in the future and then feel foolish for only just then getting.

“That being said, I do sympathize with you situation. It must be hard, being brothers with a figure of such notoriety.”

“You get used to it...” he muttered.

“So...” she said, stretching casually. “For what purposes are my talents required?”

“It’s a funny story actually; and by funny I mean strange; and by strange I mean possibly the most bizarre task I’ve ever had to accomplish.”

“Do tell.” said the witch, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well to start with, Countess Mircalla has invited me to her home.”

“How bold.” 

“And I’ve decided to accept.”

“Bolder still.”

“So, I was wondering if you could provide me with some form of protection for the encounter?”

“What kind of protection are we talking about?” asked Hekate, showing no attempt to hide her amusement.

“The kind that will help against something called inthrallment?”

“Oh.” said the witch. “Now that is actually a legitimate concern. While Mircalla’s too smart to try anything out in the open, inthralling someone in the privacy of her castle is in no way out of character for her.” She scratched her chin in contemplation. “Just stay there and make yourself cosy, I’ll have what you need in half-a-flash!”

She dived into her cabinets and began sifting through jars and vials, muttering to herself all the while. “We’ll need some anti-suggestion supplement, a draught of charm resistance...” She looked up at him, “You’re not allergic to garlic. are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” She returned from the cabinet with an armful of ingredients and a small cauldron. She began adding various liquids into the cauldron, occasionally sprinkling in something dry and withered. Sickly greens and blood reds mixed together, forming a murky brown blend.  She didn’t even have to stir. She simply waved her hand and the contents of the mixture began to swirl around under their own power. As she worked, Louis stood awkwardly to the side. He looked down at the basket of kittens. A few brave ones were not content to stay in the basket, and were desperately trying to climb their way out. Oddly, whenever one approached the edge of basket, they would suddenly lose their grip and go tumbling back down. It was as if some strange force was keeping them inside.

“Oh, who am I kidding.” thought Louis. “It’s magic.”

He reached down to pet one.

“I wouldn’t do that.” said Hekate, not even looking up from her cauldron. “Those are not normal cats.”

“What do you mean?” asked Louis.

“For one thing, they tend to steal souls.” Louis immediately retracted his hand. “Well technically you have to be dead first, but better safe than sorry.”

Louis stared down at the kittens. They stared back at him, their tiny eyes glinting. He stepped away and turned his attention to the witch’s brew. At this point, the concoction seemed sufficiently mixed. She raised her hands above the cauldron and took a deep breath. Louis could feel something in the air. There was a tingling in the back of his neck, and he was suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become. The lights seemed to dim and a soft glow began to appear the witch’s hands. It radiated from her fingers like starlight, and began to sink down into the concoction. It didn’t react at first, but after few seconds it began simmer, the brown mixture taking on a yellowish hue, becoming like liquid bronze. There was a bright flash. Louis shielded his eyes, and when he opened them he found that everything had returned to normal. Hekate was nonchalantly pouring the potion into a small vial, before stopping it and holding it out to Louis.

“Drink this prior to your rendezvous. It should protect you from any mind-altering tricks or enchantments the Countess my use. It’ll last about 6 hours after ingestion, so you should be safe for the entirety of the evening.”

Louis accepted the potion hesitantly. “There aren’t any, um... side effects that I should know about are there?”

“None that you should know about.” the witch said, her playful tone offsetting the sinisterness of her words. “Say, just out of curiosity, just how badly do you need those glasses?”

“These?” he said, adjusting the spectacles on his nose. “Blind without them.”

“Oh.” she said. “I was going to suggest that, if you were going to make a habit out of meeting with vampires, you should invest in some mirrored eyewear.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I don’t plan on this becoming routine. I like to avoid getting into dangerous situations if I can help it.”

The witch cackled. “Well you certainly picked the wrong kingdom.”

“Heh, ‘picked’. That’s one way to put it.” he brooded silently for a moment, before noticing the look of concern on the old women’s face.

“Oh, sorry. I was getting all angsty there for a moment.”

“Don’t apologize.” Said the witch. “How you feel is how you feel. There’s no shame in that.”

“I suppose not. To be perfectly honest, this is the most pleasant conversation I’ve had so far.”

“Yes, this might not be the friendliest place in the world, but it’s certainly the most interesting.” There was a loud pop and the copper machine in the middle of the room began letting out smoke. “Case in point.” she said, rushing over to the contraption.

“I’ll just let you get to that.” said Louis, stepping out of the room. “Thanks for the help and all.”

She smiled, “Any time, dearie.”

 

Louis returned to the study finding Terence at the desk, as usual. 

“I’ve got the potion.” said Louis

“Good for you.” replied Terence behind his stack of papers.

“Uh, I’m ready for the dinner... I think.”

“Congratulations.” 

Louis glanced around, not sure of what to say. “So... Can I go now?”

Terence pushed the papers away and looked him dead in the eye.

“Are you asking for advice, or permission?”

“Um, one or the other?”

“I shall only state this once. You give the orders, and I follow them. That is how this works. You are the boss, the executive, the one in charge. You may seek out others for their knowledge or guidance, but that is it. If you submit to another’s rule, you surrender your autonomy. and we are all as good as dead. I advise you to remember that.”

He said all this without anger, or harshness, or passion; but with such subtle intensity that Louis had to remind himself to breathe. Louis wanted to respond, to give some kind of reply, but words failed him. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid. He left the room and made his way to the stables.

 

The stables were old and foul smelling. Large gaps in the walls provided light and fresh air, but an eerie presence lingered still. Louis passed empty stalls far to large to hold horses and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of fearsome beasts once dwelt there. As he walked the length of the pens, he heard voices. It sounded like a conversation. Creeping closer, he spied two lesser demons sitting behind some crates. They appeared to be in the middle of an intense discussion.

“Nah nah, it’s not the principle I’m objectin' ter, it’s the methodology. Happiness is an amorphous immaterial concept. It can’t be quantified an’ used in sum sorta moral 'rithmatic.” 

“Oh no? If ya're given two options, ya would naturally determine that one option would cause ya more 'appiness than the other. And if ya ranked a buncha options based on whether they caused greater or less 'appiness, than ya could eventually create a scale. And usin' that scale as a basis, ya could create a system of units ter measure 'appiness.” 

“But the point of units is that they only measure physical things. Ya can see an inch an’ hold a pound, but ya can’t observe happiness, only its effects.” 

“Could the same thing not be said abaht time? We never observe time, we just observe its effects on things. One could even argue that time doesn’t exist, only clocks exist. Yet we still depend on 'ours and minutes ter get us through the day. Surely if time can be measured and quantified, then the same can be done wif 'appiness.” 

“Alright, so suppose that ya do develop a system for measurin' happiness, an’ ya can just magically tell how many units of happiness an action will result in. How would ya go about maximizin' it?” 

“I would look at me options and whatever one caused the most amount of 'appiness is the one I would choose. Wot don’t ya get?” 

“But how would ya do it? 

“I jus’ told ya ‘ow.”

“No, like... For example, would ya be goin’ for total or average happiness?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Well let’s assume your goin’ wif total. Suppose there was someone who got a hundred times the amount of happiness from any conceivable good or luxury. This person could go 'round takin' everyone’s stuff, an’ it would be morally permissible 'cause he would get more happiness out of it. In fact, folks would have a moral obligation ter give this bloke their stuff, 'cause doin' so would increase the total happiness.” 

“Okay, ya 'ave a point there. But wot abaht average? Why can’t what’s right be defined as whatever maximizes average 'appiness?” 

“Well, if that were the case, anything the would increase average happiness would be seen as good. This includes killin' people 'oo 're unhappy.” 

“Ha do ya make that leap?” 

“Look at it this way. In any statistical group there will be outliers, those 'oo brin' the average up or drive it down. If the really unhappy people were taken out of the equation, the average happiness would goin’ up.” 

“But that’s assumin' ya can just take them out of the equation. Life is infinitely valuable, so the very act of killin' them would be the greatest cause of unhappiness. just 'cause they’re dead, doesn’t mean their 'appiness doesn’t matter.” 

“Okay, perhaps that’s a bad example. But wot about minority vs majority. Wot if ya 'ad a room full of sadists who all would gain happiness from one person bein' in pain. Would it be morally permissible ter harm one person 'cause it created more happiness for the group?” 

“Well ya just changed the equation there. Ya introduced sufferin', which is much different from lack of 'appiness. If anything, endin' pain should be given priority over creatin' 'appiness. It might not be right ter cause one person ter suffer just for the sake of 'appiness, but no one would object ter causin' someone a lil' pain if it alleviated the average sufferin' of the group.”

“I wouldn’t say no one. Universality principle an’ all.” 

“You say that again and oi’l rip your bleedin’ tong out.”

“Um, excuse me.” said Louis. The demons looked up in surprise and immediate jumped to formation, their hands up in salute.”

“I beg your pardon sir, we didn’t hear you come in.” said the shorter demon.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing at all.” said the taller demon. “Certainly nothing iconoclastic.” The shorter demon glared at its companion.

“I don’t know what that means, so I’ll take your word for it.” said Louis. “But more importantly, do either of you know how to get to Countess Mircalla’s residence?

The two demons glanced at each other. “Well, yes. We do, Sir.” said one.

“But why would you want to?” said the other.

“What do you mean?” asked Louis

“No one is allowed inside the Countess’s castle.”

“And those that sneak in tend not to sneak out.”

“As ominous as that sounds,” said Louis, “I was invited.”

“Oh. That’s completely different then.” 

“We shall ready the carriage.”

 

The sun was beginning to set. Louis stared out the carriage window, taking in the scenery. The surrounding trees cast long shadows which reached out like black spidery arms to grasp the carriage. The two demons were up front, one navigating and one steering a pair of waterhorses. 

“How much longer?” asked Louis, watching the sky darken. 

“We should be almost there.” said the shorter demon, examining the map. 

Louis looked further down the road. The wood stretched on, as far as the eye could see.

“Are you sure?”

“Fairly sure.” the demon said, not looking up from the map. “It should be right here on the edge of Lake Lascaigh.”

Louis frowned. “Can I see that for a second?” 

“Of course.” said the demon, climbing into carriage. It ran its finger across the map, outlining their route. “First we headed north toward Runehill, then we turned eastward and passed through Gortkey.”

“Isn’t Runehill to the South?” asked the taller demon.

“No, it’s to the North.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s in the South.”

“Not according to this.”

The taller demon climbed back and examined the map. “Huh, you’re right. Runehill is to the North.”

“I told you so.”

“I could have sworn...”

“No need to swear, just listen when I say something.”

“Oh I see, I was thinking of Rumhell. Honest mistake.”

“Wait...” said Louis. “If you’re here and you’re here, then who’s driving the-”

*SPLASH*

They crashed into a lake.

Louis was thrown against the side of the cart. He thought he heard a crack. Before he had time to react, the carriage began filling with water. Almost instinctively, he dove out the window into the cold surface of the lake. He thrashed around in the water, desperate to keep his head above the surface, until his foot hit something. It was the ground. He realized sheepishly that he was still in the shallow end of the lake, the water only going up to his chest. Getting his bearings, he gratefully found that he was uninjured. He heard a noise and turned to see that the horses had gotten free from their harnesses. Neighing joyfully, they swam around in the lake, splashing water here and there.

“Kelpies...” muttered one of the demons disdainfully. Louis turned to see the two of them standing calmly near the carriage, seemingly unaffected by the crash.

“It’ll be difficult getting them back on the cart.”

“Think we’ll need them to pull it out of the lake?”

“No, I don’t think so. Water makes things easier to transport, doesn’t it?”

“That’s only when they’re floating on water. I’m pretty sure its actually harder to move something that’s submerged.”

“But water makes things float.”

“Only when they’re lighter than water.”

“What about boats? They’re much heavier than water and they still float.”

“Boats are hollow. They’re filled with air which offsets the heavier elements like metal and stone.”

“Isn’t the carriage hollow?”

“It was hollow, before it filled with water. The water goes in through the openings and fills up the space that the air occupied. It’s the same principle that makes ships sink when they spring a leak.”

Louis waded over to them. “Is everything alright?”

The demons turned their attention to him. “No need to worry, Your Highness. We’ll have this all fixed up by the end of the night. Is that alright?”

“Not really.” said Louis. “How am I supposed to get to Mircalla’s castle now?”

“By walking about 50 feet?” suggested the taller demon.

“Eh?”

The demon pointed. Louis turned around to see a small castle sitting at the edge of the Lake.

“Oh...”

 

Louis dragged himself out of the water and trudged up the path to the castle’s entrance. His clothes stuck to him uncomfortably, and the cool evening breeze made him shiver. The castle that stood before him was small, but sturdy looking. It was two stories tall, as long as it was wide, with a turret at each corner. The exterior was brown and grey stone, but it had a clean, polished look to it. Louis leaned against the wall and shook his legs, trying to get the excess water out of his pants. When he was certain that his clothes were no longer dripping, he knocked on the door. Almost immediately, a young woman answered. She was slender and delicate looking, with dark hair and a fair complexion. She looked him over curiously.

“Hello?” she said, a note of uncertainty in her soft velvety voice. “Can I help you?”

Louis was caught off guard. He wasn’t sure who or what he expected to greet him when he arrived at Mircalla’s lair, but it certainly wasn’t someone like this.

“Hello, my name is Louis Morgenstern.” he said. “The Countess invited me.” 

“Ah,” she smiled, “we’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.”

She led him through the halls of the castle, smiling the whole time.

“I can’t tell you how thrilled I was to hear you were coming.” she said gaily. “We so rarely have company.”

“Yes, I heard the Countess was rather private.”

“It comes with the territory, I suppose. All that cutthroat politicking and intrigue, it’s best not to reveal any vulnerabilities.”

They entered a small drawing room. It was very well furnished. Two couches sat opposite one another, a short glass table in between. Colorful vases of flowers rested upon polished wooden stands. A large circular carpet lay on the hardwood floors, depicting mesmerizing patterns of red and green. On the wall was a large painting depicting a woman reclining on a chair, a large snake biting at her chest. Louis shook his head. He just didn’t get modern art.

“Feel free to take a seat. I’ll go see if Mircalla is awake.”

“Awake?”

“She tends to be a late sleeper. A real creature of the night, if you catch my meaning.” She giggled as she left the room. Settling down into one of the couches, Louis took the time to administer the potion Hecate had given him. He fished inside his jacket pocket for the vial. When he wrapped his hands around it he stopped. His eyes widened.

“Oh no...” he breathed. Carefully, he lifted the vial out of his pocket and up to his face. He cursed. There was a series of large cracks in the glass, spreading like a spider web from the base to the top. There were only a few stray drops left, tiny beads of bronze clinging to the edge of the glass. Louis recalled the crash, the feeling of him slamming against the wall of the carriage. With all the water, he must not have noticed the potion spilling out. He glanced towards the entrance, wondering if it was too late to get out; to leave and pretend he was never here. There was the sound of footsteps. He hurriedly lapped up the few remaining droplets of potion before stowing the bottle in his pocket.

“Better than nothing.” he thought.

The young woman returned. 

“Mircalla will be ready shortly.” She said. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Milk? Tea?  Blood? Rose water?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay.” she said, sitting down across from him. “I’ll just keep you company then. My name is Laura, by the way.”

“Louis” he replied. “Though, I suppose you already knew that.”

She smiled and nodded. 

“So...” Louis glanced around, trying to find some topic of conversation. “This castle is very nice. Very cozy looking”

“Thank you!” beamed Laura. “I picked it out myself, way back when. We don’t have any servants, so I thought a smaller place would be easier to maintain.”

“Huh. So you and the countess... Are you her sister?”

“What? Oh, heavens no.” She chuckled. “I’m her wife.”

He felt his eyebrows rise. “Oh.” he said. “I hadn’t realized that Mircalla was uh... married.”

Laura gave a slight shrugged. “Yes, she prefers to keep her home life and her work life separate. To avoid complications, you understand.”

“Right.” replied Louis, absentmindedly. This day was just deviating farther and farther from his expectations. As he struggled to think of a proper response, Louis noticed something moving in the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw a large black cat enter the room. It wasn’t anything like the Hekate’s basket of kittens. It’s coat was sleek and lustrous, like silk. It walked in a regal manner, its long legs moving gracefully and in sync.

“Well, hello there.” said Louis, leaning forward. “Aren’t you beautiful.”

Laura giggled. “I’m sure she’s happy to hear you say that.”

“What’s her name, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Mircalla.”

As if on cue, the cat leaped behind the couch Laura was sitting on. There was a shifting sound, like cloth folding and unfolding, as the Countess rose from behind the couch. She stretched briefly then leaned over the couch, draping her arms around Laura’s neck.

“Good evening, Darling.” she purred. “Are you keeping our guest comfortable?”

Laura nodded, a contented smile on her face. The Countess looked up to face Louis.

“I’m so glad you accepted my invitation. We have much to discuss.”


	3. Chapter 3

Louis took a deep breath. Here he was, in the spider’s web. The lion’s den. He couldn’t think of a third analogy, but the fact remained that he was trapped within the lair of a vampire, one of the most frightening creatures on Earth, and he wouldn’t be able to leave unless they came to some sort of agreement. He steeled himself, preparing for the worst. 

“I hope you didn’t have any trouble getting here.” the Countess said, moving around and then into the couch in one fluid motion. “It would be a shame if some accident prevented our meeting.” Louis was so unnerved, it took him a moment to realize she was probably referring to his damp clothes.

“The trip wasn’t too bad.” he replied with what he hoped was a confident air. “We may have crashed into a lake at one point, but other then that...” 

Mircalla laughed the same melodious laugh as before, her head raised high but her eyes never leaving her guest.

“Well you are certainly full of surprises, and fortunately for us all, I rather enjoy surprises.” She turned to her wife. “I think this calls from some refreshments. Would you mind fetching that bottle of Römerwein from under the cabinet?”

“Not at all.” said Laura, walking off. The Countess turned her attention back to Louis.

“I suppose now is as good a time as any. You must be wondering why I’ve asked you here?”

“Not just for laughs and conversation, I assume.”

She nodded. “Do you recall the offer I made to you the other night?”

“It’d be hard not to. If you don’t mind me saying, you weren’t exactly subtle about your intentions.”

“And if I was would you have come?” Louis was taken aback. He hadn’t considered that. She continued. “I’m rather skilled at reading people, and I could tell you would prefer a straightforward approach. To know who I was, what I wanted, and why; without all the theatrics most people use to soften conversation.”

“So long as we’re being straightforward, what is it that you want with me?”

“Exactly what I offered before, for us to be friends. Or allies, if you prefer a more professional spin on it. I’m offering you my assistance in running your kingdom, and all I ask in return is the power to provide it.”

“After what happened with my brother, I don’t think I have much power to offer.”

“And what, may I ask, has His Majesty done to make you say that?”

It just then occurred to Louis that no one outside of him and Terrence knew of Hebron’s desertion. Realizing that was the one advantage he had over the Countess, Louis decided to play it off. He smiled and gave a non-committal shrug.

“Nothing out of character, now that I think about it. No need to bring it up now, you’ll find out eventually. You mentioned how fond you are of surprises after all.”

“True enough.” said Mircalla, as Laura returned. She was carrying a old wine bottle and a pair of glasses. “Ah, perfect timing. Would you care for a drink?”

“Why yes, thank you” replied Louis as Laura placed a glass down in front of him.

“This is wine a special blend from Speyer.” explained Mircalla as her wife proceeded to pour it. “You’re family’s from Alemannia, is it not?”

“On my father’s side, yes.” said Louis, not questioning how she knew this.

“Then it should make you feel right at home.”

Louis noticed there were only two glasses; one for him and one for Laura.

“Are you not having any?” he asked his host.

“I never drink... wine.” replied Mircalla.

“Don’t like the taste?” 

“It’s the acidity.” said Laura. “Gives her indigestion.”

“Thank you Laura.” said Mircalla, a little louder than necessary. “Say, you know those little flat pastries you are so fond of baking? Why not whip up a batch for our guest?”

“Are you sure?” the young woman looked up quizzically. “I mean I’d love to, but I haven’t had time to prepare. It will probably take me a good half hour or so.”

“Take your time, Darling. We’ll wait for you.”

Laura smiled and headed down the corridor. Louis sipped his drink. Not bad, all things considered.

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” purred the Countess peacefully.

Louis nodded. “You are a very lucky woman. To get back to business, what kind of assistance are you offering, exactly?”

“I assume you’ve been informed on the political power structure in Ierne?”

“Yes. The nobles serve the king and the king protects and provides for the nobles.”

“You’re half right, but there’s more to the system than mutual obligation. There’s the matter of respect. The Noble Lords will only follow someone they regard as their superior; and they, like all demons, see humans as weak and pathetic.”

“Did they miss the part where my brother killed their king?”

“They would never acknowledge your brother, no matter how strong he proved himself. Asmodeus’s family has been on the throne since The Scourge, when the fiends first conquered Ierne and wiped out the native inhabitants.”

 

“So you’re saying it’s hopeless? Any moment now some demon lord is going to pull his army up to the castle and take over?”

“Not exactly. You see, the fatal flaw of the Noble Lords, of demons in general really, is that they are not united. Though they may rally against a common enemy, when left to their own devices they will naturally try to prove their strength and conquer the others’ territory. Any noble trying to seize the throne alone would be leaving themselves open to the others. And any nobles allying themselves with another would have to worry about being betrayed or sold out to a third party. Right now peace is maintained through a tangled web of suspicion, alliances, and deceit. As long as we can keep this up, your brother will be untouchable.”

“You’d make them so concerned with each other, that none of them would try to make a move against us?”

“Essentially.”

“That’s a big promise your making, but how do I know all of this subterfuge doesn’t extend to you? How do I know you’re not planning on betraying my brother yourself?”

She stopped smiling. “The answer is all around you.”

“Huh?” Louis looked around. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Is that supposed to be a metaphor or...” It suddenly clicked. “You’re referring to your home. The fact that you’ve invited me in, allowed me to see the side of you that no one else does.”

She nodded solemnly. “To the rest of the world, I’m the femme fatale. The mysterious, seductress who will do anything to get what she wants. It makes sense to them, fits with their view of the world. If any of them knew about my real life, knew about Laura...” She trailed off.

“Why are you showing me this? This is a lot to trust to someone you just met.”

She looked him in the eyes. “It’s to prove how serious about this alliance. To show how far I’m willing to go for your brother. I may not think much of him as a man, but his being here could mean big things for Ierne. It could mean the beginning of real change, of real progress; assuming he isn’t killed first.”

“Progress for whom? If I’m not mistaken, fiends were doing pretty well in the status quo; before the war that is.”

“For everyone, human and fiend alike. If we can unite the two kingdoms, it will mean an end to centuries of needless bloodshed.”

The Countess said this with a completely straight face. Louis stared at her critically. Humans and monsters? United? The idea was too fantastic even for him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m honestly surprised you would care about humans, being a vampire and all.”

“The Directorate of Porphyric Revanants has always cared about humanity. Protecting humans is one of its primary goals.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Forgive my skepticism, but I find that hard to believe. Vampires feed on humans. We’re their natural prey, not to put too fine a point on it.”

The Countess smiled again, showing a her pointy fangs. “Tell me, have you ever heard of a geometric progression?”

“I’ve heard of the word geometric, and the word progression.”

She put her hands out, as if setting the scene. “Imagine there is a vampire. This vampire needs to feed once a month or it dies. It’s primary form of feeding, biting someone and sucking their blood, results in the creation of a second vampire. This vampire will need to feed, as will any vampires it creates, and so on. In other words, every month the number of vampires in the world doubles. Now at this rate of multiplication, how long do you think it would take for these vampires to wipe out the entire human race?”

“Um, a few centuries maybe?”

“Two and a half years.”  And that’s a conservative estimate, based on the assumed global population.”

Louis tried to piece that together in his head. All of humanity gone. In less than three years. He just couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

“If what you’re saying is true, then why hasn’t this happened already?”

“Because we don’t let it happen. Our kind depends on humans to survive. A species would have to be brain dead to kill off its only food source, and yes that is a slur against ghouls. Throughout the years, the Directorate has carefully monitored the vampire population, rationing out blood and ensuring there are no unregistered feedings. Those who do not abide by the Directorate’s rules are dealt with severely. It is because of them that there is a balance.”

Louis shivered. The idea that vampires were protecting humanity, preventing its destruction; it was a frightening thought. But by far the most frightening thing was that it made sense. From what Louis knew, vampires were powerful; with strength, speed, and conditional immortality. Furthermore, unlike other fiends, they could blend in with humans seamlessly, going undetected for years at a time. Could it be that the only reason they haven’t already wiped out humanity is that they’ve been actively trying not to? The implications were troubling, to say the least. 

“I’m not trying to portray myself as a saint,” said Mircalla, “or some great altruistic savior. I just want you to realize that there is more to a vampire than their hunger; and that my being one isn’t an implicit cause for distrust.”

“Alright.” said Louis. “So assuming I decide to trust you, what do you want.”

“Power.” replied the Countess. “Or at least a position of it.” 

“Are you saying you want a job? Has this whole thing been some roundabout job interview?”

“If you wish to phrase it that way. Jobs are the currency of politics after all. Well that and gossip, loyalty, and actual currency.”

“Aren’t you already a Noble Lord?”

“Yes, but there are other Noble Lords. What I was thinking of was something a bit more... exclusive. Something prestigious, distinguished, with it’s own unique flair to it. Something like a Chancellor. No. A Lord Chancellor.” Despite her formal demeanor, and the general air of control she seemed to give off, there was certain amount passion in Mircalla’s voice.`

“You’re setting your sights a rather high.” said Louis. “I don’t know if I can promise something like that.”

“You don’t need to. Being in your brother’s good graces is payment enough. That being said, I require some means of measuring your commitment. Trust is a two way street, after all. I opened myself up to you, I’ll expect something in return.”

Louis considered it for a moment. He had no compromising secrets, at least that he knew of. And even if he had, he didn’t think he’d be comfortable with sharing. As fond as Mircalla was of making allies and strengthening her connections, he doubted he could match her enthusiasm. In truth, he’d never been that much of a people person, at least compared to Hebron. Now that he thought of it, he had always relied on his brother to do the talking. He was suddenly reminding of what Terrence said. Of the importance of having people to rely on, experts with specialized knowledge and skills, to call on when things went wrong. Louis looked up at the Countess.

“What about an advisor?” he asked.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Being an advisor. Acting as a confidante, giving the royal in charge information he needs to make the best decision. You’d be working as close to the top as you could get, and you’d be making real change. More than that, you just wouldn’t be in the boss’s good graces, you’d be an indispensable part of his administration. Absolute job security and whatnot.” Louis chose his words carefully, or at least as carefully as he could on the spot. He didn’t want to lie, but at the same time he didn’t want to give away that Hebron wouldn’t be the one Mircalla would be serving.

The Countess pursed her lips, thinking. Louis began to get nervous. It was just a suggestion after all. Had he been to enthusiastic about it? Finally, the Countess nodded her head and looked at him.

“Alright.” She said. “I suppose that will do for now. But I shall expect a better title than just advisor.”

“Yeah.” said Louis. “I’ll get Public Relations right on that.” I occurred to Louis that Ierne might not even have a proper propaganda department. It didn’t take much to convince fiends to kill humans. It was the kind of thing that just happened.

“Very well.” replied Mircalla. “In the meantime, I shall work to postpone the other Lords’ inevitable rebellion. Indefinitely, if I can.”

“It’s a deal.” said Louis, sticking out his hand. Mircalla stared at it curiously, before taking it in her own and shaking. 

“My first act as Prince of Ierne.” thought Louis. He couldn’t help but smile.

“I hope you’re hungry!” came a voice from the hall, as Laura returned with a tray of pastries. “Careful, they’re hot.”

 

As night fell, Louis made his leave, feeling somewhat confident for the first time since... He stopped, pondering. How long had it been? Returning to the road, his gaze fell upon two lesser demons standing next to a fully restored carriage. They looked up at him in surprise.

“Your Highness.” said the shorter one. “You’ve made it out alive.”

“Alive and in one piece.” nodded Louis. The two demons exchanged glances. Louis pretended not to notice as the shorter one handed a small jingling sack to the taller. 

The night was oppressively dark, but that didn’t seem to bother the demons as they drove back to the Castle Dúnna nGall. Louis sat back in the carriage, contemplating the universe and his place in it. It all seemed so strange. 48 hours ago he was an average adventurer (below average really, no point in denying it). 24 hours ago, he was a prince. Now, he was the ruler of an entire nation. He wondered what his parents would have thought of this.

“Oh yeah,” he thought, “I should probably mail them, let them know what’s happening.” One of the most crucial lessons they didn’t teach you in the adventurer’s handbook was the importance of writing home. He sighed. That was something he could take care of tomorrow. Tonight, all he needed to do was get some sleep.


End file.
